


The Subtly of Sensuality

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Sexy, The Answer, The Question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: There is the death frisbee, the question, the answer and, of course, the Alpha male in the bedroom.





	The Subtly of Sensuality

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older piece that I came across and thought you might find some entertainment from. Comments always welcome. Kudos will be polished and hung on the stars.

It had been one of the coldest evenings on record in old London. John and Sherlock had been out investigating a new case. They were done now but there is not a taxi to be had. It’s beginning to snow.

“Wish you had your ear hat now?” John asks comically as he walks at Sherlock’s side, his gloved hands and winter hat barely keeping the cold at bay.

“Oh, you’d be so happy to have that photo op wouldn’t you, John?” Sherlock snarks.

Sherlock hated that cursed hat and it just kept showing up. Oh, how he abhorred that hat.

John pulled the infamous hat from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock.

“Listen, you brought it on yourself. You were the one who chose it from all the hats in the theater. You just have to deal with it till it all goes away.”

“It is never going away.” Sherlock harrumphed about it all. Took the hat and jammed it down on head pulling the flaps down to cover his freezing ears.

Sherlock pulled out his mobile accessing an app that would bring the nearest cab to them.

“Twenty minutes till transport arrives, John. I think we should walk about and try to keep warm.”

“Sherlock, I’ve always wanted to ask you a question; something that truly puzzles me?”

“Anything that will help us pass the time. Fire away.”

“Have you ever had a relationship? Any type of relationship? With an actual human being?”

“My dear John,” Sherlock stopped and turned to his only friend; a quirky smile upon his lips. “I have performed experiments at various stages of my life, but never found the process to be anything more that a rather massively unsanitary endeavor. I’ve never found ‘people’ to be all that interesting or palatable on a long term time basis.”

“Yet we’ve been together for over a year and I don’t find you bored with me at all?”

“You are a very sensual man. That requires no great talent to deduce. Your sexuality is quite evident in your ability to cause a state of arousal in all women in your vicinity. You never pass on an attempt to engage any woman that catches your eye. You are not afraid to press your advantage and more times than not you succeed in your attempts because of your persistence and your incredible adeptness in sexual performance.” 

John isn’t put off by Sherlock’s extreme deductions. He’s unaffected by these famously acute observational skills.

“Your only problem concerning your sexual liaisons is your commitment of time to me. Women are quite intense creatures that demand total concentration and time commitment; which, fortunately, I do as well.”

John blinked and cleared his throat.

“I should always remember you can easily read people. Yes, Sherlock, I’ve never wanted for female companionship both here and abroad. And, yes, I’ve been approached by men as well. I have dabbled a bit here and there, but no one’s ever caught my fancy.”

“Until now.” Sherlock touched John’s gloved hand with his own.

“I don’t really have to answer that, you all ready know my answer,” John said. Looking into Sherlock’s eyes he saw his image there.

(-_-)

“I can see in your eyes that you’d like to know what it would be like to have me as a lover,” Sherlock stated with a lackadaisical smile on his face. 

“Yes, Sherlock, you fascinate me. I’ve never desired one man in general, but you are unique.” John looked deeply into Sherlock’s heroic crystal blue eyes.

“You are a very sexual being.” Sherlock acknowledges John’s needs. “John, of all the people I’ve met in my life, I can honestly say that you, alone, have breached the walls I’ve built around my heart. You’ve saved my life and been willing to give your life to protect mine, within days of our meeting. It was as if there was this unique connection between us. I felt it, but I wasn’t sure if you did.”

“I felt it, but knowing that you weren’t into sex, I didn’t think it appropriate to play that card,” John said.

John put his hand to the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulled his face close, their foreheads touching, their breaths steaming the space between them. Then slowly, deliberately, John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. His kiss became long and luxurious; Sherlock placed his arms around John, pulling him even closer. The kiss was urgent and lusty by turns. Both Sherlock and John reluctantly parted, breathing deeply as a taxi came close.

The taxi stopped and they entered the warm interior. They sat close, thigh against thigh, Sherlock removed his gloves as John gave the cabbie their address. He placed his right hand on John’s left thigh and squeezed deliciously. The cab veered off toward the flat. Neither one looked at the other. John placed his left hand over Sherlock’s and they were content to share the warmth of their shared contact.

John paid the cabbie and they exited into the flat. It was cool inside. Sherlock set about getting the heaters up and working. John put the kettle on. Some hot tea would alleviate the chill in their bones. At last they sat in their comfortable chairs facing one another over hot cups of tea.

“So…,” John cleared his throat and lifted his tea cup. “How do you want to proceed?”

“Since I have limited experience in these matters. I will have to defer to your expertise, John.”

“I’ve brought many virgin females across to the dark side,” John smiles. “Not so much with males though. I’m thinking it’s not too different.”

“Might I suggest that the kissing is quite pleasurable, maybe we can start with that and expand from there?”

“Okay,” John is all about the positive attitude.

They put their tea cups down. Then John does something strange. He takes the Union Jack pillow that is at his back and he throws it at Sherlock.

Sherlock catches the pillow.

“Is this an interjection of playfulness?” Sherlock gives his genuine crooked little smile.

“Great deduction,” John smiles warmly, kicking off his shoes. Likewise, Sherlock removes his shoes and throws the pillow back at John. Then follows the pillow, scrambling over to John, coming down on his knees and leaning close, he captures John’s face in his large elegant hands. The kiss is sublime.

They were submerged in kissing when John introduces the manipulation of tongue as he runs his fingers through Sherlock’s dark curly locks.

“That was glorious,” Sherlock states as he comes up for air. Where did you develop those lingual articulation talents, John?”

“From experience with other pillow partners,” John would only be honest with Sherlock.

“Shall I become your next pillow partner?” Sherlock wanted to know what his place is going to be in John’s heart.

“No, Sherlock, pillow partners come and go. We will be lovers, you and I. Lovers that will stand the test of time.”

“This will be a strange relationship, John. How will we make it all work?”

“A heart beat at a time, Sherlock.” John stood and taking Sherlock’s hand he led him into Sherlock’s bedroom, now to be their bedroom.

“I want you to know, John, while I am an Alpha male in the world of deduction; here in our bedroom, I acquiesce to your knowledge and experience. You are the Alpha here.”

John knew that this was a great concession on Sherlock’s part. He did not relinquish his Alpha status easily to anyone. John pulled Sherlock onto their bed and drew him into an embrace that was warm, strong and lovingly familiar. It was strange how such a large man as Sherlock fit easily into that embrace. Sherlock sighed in an audible exaltation of contentment.

“I have longed for this John, being close to you, the world so far away and the two of us alone together.”

“We can get closer.” John said as he brought his lips to Sherlock’s.

Sherlock offered up his lips willingly to his only friend and new lover. He parted his lips to let John enter in, his talented tongue igniting in Sherlock feelings that he’d frankly never thought he would feel. Sherlock pulled John closer and they melted into one as their kiss went on from intervals of blissful abandon to strident bouts of consuming sexual desire. They broke that wonderful kiss and drew deep breaths of air, their lips swollen and red from the pressure of that one long, red hot kiss.

“More,” Sherlock requested, “please John, more.”

John smiled into Sherlock’s pale electric blue eyes. Those eyes that mesmerized him and made him melt inside. He brought himself to those eyes and kissed each one upon its tender lid. Then brought his sweet kisses to Sherlock’s cheek and following down to the elongated neck. There he let go a long series of kisses that ran up and down that neck, kissing it, adoring it, touching it with lips and tongue. Tasting his lover, teasing him; he did this till he could feel Sherlock quivering beneath him. His desire pushing and pulling him into higher levels of need, he is getting kisses but not where he wants them. He is getting pleasured, but not nearly enough to suit his mounting, ever mounting essential needs.

“Please, John!” The aching in Sherlock’s voice makes the fine baritone break and quake with his desire. Again and again Sherlock begs for the return of the kiss that would complete him.

Moments turned into an infinite amount of time that Sherlock could not quantify as all ability to reason and apply logic left his brain. John came at last to Sherlock’s mouth and Sherlock clung to John’s mouth as a drowning man seeks one last breath of air. This kiss ended the torment and torture of all delightfully kisses before it, this kiss left them weak and exhausted with hearts pounding and breaths coming quick and full.

“How did. You. Do. That?” Sherlock was still not fully functional. He touched John’s face to feel the skin hot with arousal, as he looked into those midnight blue eyes that captivated and stole his heart away. “How happy I am that you asked that question, John. Look at all that I’ve been missing in my life with you.”

John began moving his strong fingers through Sherlock’s hair, finally massaging his scalp. Sherlock purred with pleasure. John started at his temples, through the hair line and across the meridian’s of the scalp. Sherlock’s fantastical brain had never felt anything like this before. No one had ever touched him like that. Sherlock went limp from the pleasure of being totally in the strong and gentle hands of someone who seemed to know his body better than he did. Sherlock is completely and utterly relaxed as the massaging goes on and on. His eyes closed and his mind utterly blank as it went from pleasure to pleasure to emptiness of thought.

(-_-)

John got up from bed sometime later to go to the bathroom. He returned, drawing the comforter over himself and Sherlock. John had never seen Sherlock sleep as he did right now there was no twitching or REM movement. He was totally and unbelievably relaxed, his breathing slow and incredibly deep. John scooped Sherlock up in his arms again and it was almost as if they fit perfectly together. Sherlock nestled in his strong arms, safe and asleep.

“Love you,” Sherlock whispered in a voice thick with affection.

“Sleep,” John admonished his young lover. He knew he didn’t have to say the words. Sherlock had felt John’s love, with the inception of his kisses, his loving touch and, of course, the mad crazy sex.

(-_-)

The soft caresses started languidly, so subtle that they became part of John’s dream, a dream of loving his young lover, of not holding back of just holding on, of finding that pleasure point between them, of hot sex and even hotter bouts of kissing, but the caresses became more insistent, almost demanding and John woke into his dream, Sherlock, hair tousled and beaming at his side. 

“Wake up, old man,” he grinned. In the early morning barely-there-light Sherlock looked 19 instead of his normal 34. He knew that though there was only 5 years between them, John was always going to be the adult, the ‘old man’ of the two of them and Sherlock would never let him forget it. 

“I’ll show you who is an old man,” John said as he engulfed his young lover and went on a search and destroy mission that would leave him breathless and trembling with bliss. 

Halfheartedly, Sherlock, fends off the assault. Reveling in the playfulness that John brings to love making and how tender he could be, but that was no great surprise. He is a born protector and nurturer. The soldier ready to kill at a moment’s notice, the doctor always vigilant, patient and kind, what an unusual and perfect combination; everything that Sherlock needs in his very unusual life, all wrapped up in a package that was warm, loving and kitten cuddly. Though he knew better than to remark about the kitten part, John is just too masculine or is he?

“Meow,” Sherlock whispered as they settle into lasting contentment of post coital touching and holding.

“Are you still being a smartarse?” John gives Sherlock a glare that would have made wood petrify.

“Just a general comment about how cuddly you become during and after intercourse. You would give any average kitten a run for his money.” Sherlock is being held and not wanting to move out of the comforts of John’s embrace.

“I will take that as a complement. Just not to broadcast it to the Yarders at the Met. Leave me some modicum of dignity.”

“Is sex always this messy, the body fluids and all,” Sherlock queried?

“There is always the ick factor, Sherlock. Whatever kind of sex you’re having.” John is smiling his broadest, his love showing in his eyes as well as his emerging erection. 

“Let’s not waste a moment on that thought and get back to the business at hand,” Sherlock said taking hold of John’s desire.

“I think we need to get up. You know work, Lestrade, catching ultimate evil in the city of London?”

Sherlock pulls his mobile from the bedside table and checks for texts. Nothing.

“Nothing on,” he says sweetly. Let’s melt London down with a little of our own eternal fire.”

How could John resist.


End file.
